


A Story about Remus

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-08
Updated: 2006-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mirror of Erised shows your deepest desire, but what if your deepest desire is something you don't want to see?</p><p>~7,300 words. R. Some violent imagery. Written for the 2006 lupin_snape Fantasy Fest. April 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Story about Remus

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kainoliero's Fantasy Fest prompt: _Snape and Lupin are secretly dating in their teenage years. In the Mirror of Erised Snape sees Lupin, but Lupin something (but NOT someone) else. Heartbreak, angst, separation, I'd love it if there could be some sexing as well._ It is virtually guaranteed that this is not quite what she wanted, but I'm afraid Remus just wouldn't tell the story any other way. :) Thanks to aerynstales and Smoke for the beta work.

The image wavered for a moment in the glass but did not disappear. It lingered before Remus plain as day, ripples of meaning flowing out from its centre and knocking him backward.

The air stalled in his lungs and he felt himself choke, stumble, and gasp, one hand flying to his mouth. _No_. The image had to be a lie. He could never be capable of the act he saw before him. It simply wasn't possible. That kind of violence was unknown to him.

"Well, I might not be your first choice, Lupin, but it can't be _that_ bad to see me there, can it?" Snape muttered from the other side of the room, acid in his voice.

Remus was shaking now. He felt his bones and muscles leave his control in reckless spasms as he continued to back up, eyes locked on the mirror despite his urgent need to get as far away from it as he could.

"Oh, honestly, quit being such a drama queen and tell me what you see," Snape insisted, the usual note of impatience in his voice, and then he stiffened. "It's goddamned Sirius Black, isn't it?" he said quietly, and Remus whirled around, eyes wide. "I knew it. I knew you never wanted me – the two of you just having a big laugh behind my back, is that it? Well, fuck you." He jabbed a shaking finger at the mirror, black eyes flashing at Remus. "Where are we, Lupin? Where, you miserable animal, are_ we_ in that fucking mirror? Tell me that."

But Remus couldn't tell him that, because he didn't know the answer. Four minutes earlier he had thought the feel of Snape's hands on his body and Snape's lips on his neck were the only things he needed in the world. He had thought it was all fun and games, and that nobody had anything to lose – least of all him. It wasn't Sirius he saw in the mirror, though, and it wasn't Snape. There were no hands on his body, no lips on his neck, and he saw without a doubt that he had lost everything – including Snape.

Now there was only Remus, that mirror, and the carnage, blood, and murder held within. His heart's deepest desire, or so they say.

Before Snape could stop him, Remus turned away and fled the room, desperate for air. He couldn't be that man. He _wouldn't _be that man. But how could he change the darkest ambition of his soul?

~~~~~

**  
i. _a story about snape_  
**  
It would probably be a good idea to back up a bit and explain how Remus had reached this point – eighteen years old and shocked to the core to learn what it was his heart truly desired. He should explain it to himself, at least, since Snape wasn't speaking to him anymore, and it wasn't like anyone else would listen to him.

The first thing Remus needed to do was to decide whether this was a story about Snape, or a story about him. Before the mirror it might have been possible to be both, but not anymore. By all rights he had no business being involved with _Snape_, anyway. Snape was skinny, greasy, obstinate, and really not nearly as clever as he seemed to think he was. Sirius was definitely a better-looking choice, if Remus wanted to snog a bloke, or hell, even James might have let him have a grope if he'd tried a bit harder. But no, he had to go and decide that _Snape_ was the one he wanted. Merlin help him.

Maybe he could blame Peter. That would be easy enough.

"Hey, Moony," Peter had said after that horrible night in the tunnel, stuffing a piece of pizza into his mouth and laughing, bits of dough flying everywhere, "bet Snivellus wanted to get into the Willow to snog you, haha. Stupid bastard, following you around."

"Shut up, Peter," James had snapped, a Quidditch magazine pulled high over his face. James didn't like talking about that night.

"Yeah, shut up, Peter," echoed Sirius, who liked it even less.

But Remus couldn't get those words out of his head. _Snog you_, he heard over and over on an endless loop. _He probably wanted to snog you_. Maybe he did; Remus would never know. Seemed a stretch, didn't it? After all, Snape was the bitter enemy of Remus's best friends, and after the night Remus lunged down that tunnel, two hundred pounds of sinewy muscle and clamping jaws bearing down on Snape, that bitterness turned downright acidic.

Remus had been livid at Sirius. He'd engaged in the best that passive-aggressive behaviour had to offer – ignoring Sirius for days, dumping a tray of pudding in his lap on the way out of the Great Hall one night, and then ignoring him again.

"Quit it, Moony," Sirius had muttered to him after a few weeks of this, narrowing his eyes and wiping mud off his robes after Remus had clobbered him with James's sodden broomstick. "I said I was sorry."

Sorry for what – letting Snape walk to his death? Letting Snape in on Remus's secret? Or letting Remus realise just how bloodthirsty he could be if given the chance? That was it – hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that. _That_ was the moment he first saw himself as a killer. He understood now that he enjoyed the power he held over Snape that night, when the other boy had stood at the far end of that tunnel looking at Remus not with contempt or loathing, but with fear, real fear.

Sirius never knew about that bloodthirsty enjoyment issue. Neither did Remus, until that night in a stale chamber at Hogwarts, backing away from a mirror as though it was fire and he was scorched.

~~~~~

 

If this was going to be a story about Snape, it was worth figuring out how the two of them ever made the leap from predator and prey in that tunnel, to lovers sneaking furtive gropes behind abandoned classroom doors by the time they finished school.

It was the end of seventh year before Snape came near him again, and that seemed a long enough time for his childhood nemesis to nurse a grudge. Remus saw the glances Snape shot at him in class from behind that curtain of hair when Remus wasn't supposed to be looking. Maybe Peter thought Snape only wanted to snog him, but Remus knew different. Snape wanted to _face_ him, confront him, and defeat him. Snape was a monster himself, in his own way, especially by the end of seventh year. Everybody knew what the Slytherins were up to, sneaking off in groups to brand their forearms as if it were as simple as selling bootlegged gin behind the Quidditch stands.

Snape himself didn't have the Mark yet, but Remus knew he was close. It wouldn't take much to push him into You-Know-Who's camp forever. Remus liked that about him, in a twisted sort of way – or he respected it, at least. They were both eighteen by that point, and Merlin help a bloke who didn't know exactly what he wanted by the time he reached that age – from life, from sex, and maybe even from love.

But the thing with Snape didn't start with _love_. That started with Snape carefully knocking Remus's bag to the floor as the crowd squeezed out of the Great Hall after dinner one night. _That_ started with a gently uncoiling rage as Remus glared at him, suddenly aware that James and Sirius and Peter were lost ahead of them in the throng and that there was no one left to punish Snape's impertinence but him. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself narrowing his eyes and jerking his head for Snape to follow him. That whole fucking thing started that night, with spindly fingers raking down Remus's back in a shuttered classroom off the main corridor, angled hips grinding against his own.

"You like that, you stupid beast?" Snape breathed in Remus's ear as fingers tore at his robes. "Tell me."

Remus pushed him against the wall before he could think to walk away instead. "You want to fuck a werewolf, is that what you want?" He pressed his hips in harder, wrenching the moan from Snape's lips that Remus knew the other man didn't want to give.

It was all claws and anger and frustrated need that first time. Snape goaded him with words no one had ever said to him before, calling Remus filthy names and causing the hair on the back of his neck to prickle with barely-suppressed rage. He ravaged Snape's mouth and fisted him roughly through his robes, and Snape came with a muttered curse. That part, it seemed, was never supposed to happen.

Remus thought that meant he'd won. How stupid he used to be back then.  
.  


~~~~~

 

If this was going to be a story about Snape, it shouldn't have surprised Remus that thirteen minutes of fumbled groping in an abandoned classroom one night had turned into a month of secret meetings, angry kisses, and surging arousal between the two of them. Every time, the whole thing made even less sense to him than the time before, but he kept going back anyway. There was something about Snape that Remus couldn't name, and couldn't give up. Snape brought out the worst in him, and he found himself grateful for it.

Remus couldn't be at his worst around James and Sirius and Peter. He was the responsible one, the Prefect, the one that kept order and chastised infractions. Even after James became Head Boy, it was Remus who had to keep them all from getting expelled. Ironic really, that the one most capable of breaking all the rules, the one with supernatural strength and claws to kill should be the one to keep harmless twits like a dog, a stag, and a rat in line. He supposed that they should have been afraid of him, the way Snape was, but they never were. They underestimated him, really. He underestimated himself.

Snape knew exactly who Remus was, though, and never let him forget it. Remus was always a werewolf with him – a beast, an animal, a savage dark creature with uncontrollable urges and dangerous instincts. Snape spent every second of their time together reminding Remus that _werewolf_ would always be his primary identity. Remus already knew he would never be _Remus Lupin, Minister for Magic_, or _Remus Lupin, Quidditch Star_, or hell, even _Remus Lupin, Filing Clerk_. Yet he let Snape rub that salt right in the wound, whispering in his ear that being a werewolf meant he couldn't be any number of other things he wanted to be.

At the time, Remus thought Snape must have enjoyed goading him, seeing how much of it Remus could take before he snapped, wrenching Snape's arms over his head and biting at Snape's neck just to hear the other man's breath catch and the fear unfold in the quickening of his heart rate. That's when Remus would tell him he'd better watch his mouth or Remus would hurt him this time, really hurt him, and Snape would raise his chin and push Remus even further. _Oh yeah? Go ahead, Lupin. I'm not afraid of you._ That was a funny line, really, because of course Snape was afraid of him.

But by then it didn't matter because he was hard against Remus's thigh, arching against him for friction even as he turned his head away and shut his eyes. Remus knew that for Snape to get off on this he had to be just as dark as Remus, just as sick and twisted and eager for pain. It occurred to him that he had wasted his time all those years, taking James and Sirius and Peter with him to the Shack when he could have just taken Snape – and had a much better time of it.

Yes, that's what he thought at the time, that Snape was just being an arsehole to get a rise out of him and get fucked in the process. Since that mirror, Remus knew better. Snape wasn't like that because he was afraid of Remus; he was afraid _for_ him, and now Remus knew that the only reason Snape had dwelled on the lycanthropy was because he'd wished so fervently that Remus didn't have it.

~~~~~

 

The mirror.

Maybe this wasn't a story about Snape, after all. Maybe it was a story about a stupid mirror.

Erised/Desire. Dumbledore really thought that was a smart one, didn't he? Dumbledore thought he was quite smart about a lot of things. Sometimes the old man made Remus wonder why he didn't just pack it in and follow Snape over to You-Know-Who's side. It wasn't like the rest of them didn't think he already had, the way he refused to follow orders. He was barely out of school now and hadn't had much of a chance to do anything, but he'd been to the meetings; he knew about Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix.

He was fully aware that they only wanted him to join so they could send him off to play _werewolf attaché_ with the most unforgiving packs in northern Europe. Apparently, he had no other marketable skills. Top of the class in Defence Against the Dark Arts didn't seem to matter much, or second only to Lily in Charms, or just as many NEWTS as James and Sirius, who got to do all sorts of work with intelligence and espionage and what not. Meanwhile, Remus sat around wondering how on earth he was supposed to invite someone like Fenrir Greyback to tea, in order to chat about how Greyback really should tell You-Know-Who to sod off, and ally the werewolves to Dumbledore instead.

Sure, Albus. Piece of cake. Remus didn't know very much about Greyback, but he had seen the look in Dumbledore's eyes when the old wizard spoke of that monster. It was the same look Remus's father had worn years ago. Remus didn't know what the look was about, and he didn't want to; it was enough to convince him to avoid Greyback at all costs.

But this wasn't a story about Dumbledore or about Greyback. It was a story about a mirror.

"What are you doing later?" Snape asked quietly one afternoon the summer after they had left school. He buttoned his Muggle coat as Remus leaned against the wall of the ale-sodden alley, trying to catch his breath.

"This wasn't enough for one day?"

Snape glared at him, the way he always did when Remus tried to joke about something. "Don't flatter yourself. I want to show you something I found."

"Why?"

"_Why?_ Who cares _why_, Lupin?" Snape shook his head, exasperated. "Idiot," he muttered. "Fur on your brain – that must be what makes you so stupid."

"Shut up, Snape," Remus answered reflexively as he refastened his trousers. Snape's low-level insults didn't really bother him anymore, but he knew the other man expected an objection, and he aimed to please. He waited another moment, then shrugged. "Fine. What have you found?"

Snape watched him carefully, chewing his bottom lip. "It's at Hogwarts."

"What the hell were you doing at Hogwarts?" Remus laughed, just to annoy Snape. "Seven years of bliss not enough for you? And I'm the stupid one," he added, kicking at a rock in the dirt.

"I had business there," Snape replied airily. "I could tell you, of course, but I'd have to kill you."

"Well, aren't you just Death Eater Number One."

Snape stiffened. "You know I'm not." He scratched at his left sleeve, his eyes far away. "Not yet."

Remus paused. "I know," he whispered, but that wouldn't do, that made it sound like he _cared_, so he rolled his eyes for good measure. "All right," he added, careful to keep his tone light. "What's this special thing you found at Hogwarts when you weren't supposed to be there that you're just _dying_ to share with me?"

"Tell me something first."

Remus eyed him suspiciously. "What?"

"What do you want more than anything else in the world?"

The air left his lungs when he realised the question was serious. _I'm not telling you that_. He cocked his head. "Oh! Are we sharing feelings now?" he mocked. "Hold on a second, let me just get my third-year diary out." He kicked at another rock, shoving his hands in his pockets and not looking at Snape.

"What do you want more than anything else in the world?" Snape repeated, folding his arms over his chest.

Remus glanced up with narrowed eyes. "All right, let's see. Your mouth around my cock again sounds good. Can you do that with your special Hogwarts secret?" He held Snape's gaze this time.

"What do you want," Snape said loudly, "more than _anything else_ in the world?"

"Shut up, Snape," Remus muttered, his breath coming faster. "Just shut up about it, okay?"

"What do you want–"

"SHUT UP!" The scream that tore from Remus's throat surprised him, and he slammed his jaw closed. He had sworn to himself as a child, as soon as he was old enough to understand all the limitations of his life and his world, that he would never ask that question. Now here was _Snape_, of all people, forcing him to confront it. "Nothing I want matters," he continued quietly, his heart pounding, "because I'll never get it, and you know that. So just shut the hell up."

Snape closed the distance between them in seconds and grabbed Remus's head in his hands, tilting it up to face him as his black eyes sliced through Remus. The kiss caught him off guard, Snape's lips pressed to his with an aching urgency, not borne of the usual anger and hate between the two of them, but not exactly gentle either. This kiss was different, like a soft crashing wave, and his fingers in Remus's hair held him anchored to Snape, feeling suddenly safe, warm, and needed. Snape parted Remus's lips with his tongue and deepened the kiss, seeking Remus's acquiescence. He gave it without thinking, tasting Snape and drowning in him, Remus's hands clutching at his lover's chest as the groan rose in Remus's throat.

"What the hell," he breathed in confusion when Snape released him, but Snape only took a step backward, his hand slowly wiping the moisture from his lips as he gazed at Remus.

"Meet me at Hogwarts at midnight," he said quietly, "and you can find out what it is you really want."

It must have been that kiss that left him momentarily stupid, Remus decided, because he found himself nodding as he gathered his cloak and left. It must have been that kiss that convinced him that the thing he truly wanted would be something he could actually bear to see.

~~~~~

 

Thinking back on it, he supposed it shouldn't have taken him so long to understand that Snape loved him.

The very thought made him glance down at his broken body in shame and loathing: cracked bones never mending quite right; scars covering every surface; a habit of putting up with anything anyone asked of him, if it guaranteed him a companion at dinner. He was pathetic. No one should _love_ him.

Snape did, though. It wasn't natural for him; he shouldn't have had the capacity for it. In the beginning, Remus was convinced that Snape only wanted to use him as an experiment in some potion or other once he gained Remus's trust. Even as Snape's lips roamed over his throat and the feel of Snape's body dulled his suspicions, Remus stayed lucid enough to reach for his wand and hex Snape's bits off if he tried anything funny, like cutting a piece of Remus's hair or skimming off a layer of skin.

_What do you want more than anything else in the world?  
_  
A ridiculous question. Remus wanted the war to be over; he wanted James and Sirius to spend less time with each other and more time with him; he wanted a lover he didn't need to hide in the shadows. He wanted a lover who didn't need to feel the danger of the wolf before he could get it up for him.

Oh, who was he kidding? He wanted to stand under the full moon, dressed in his best robes, feeling the wind on his face – a _real_ human being with no scars and no nightmares. He wanted to love and be loved just like everyone else. He wanted to be Remus, just Remus, and not a werewolf. Not a monster.

So if this was a story about a mirror, why wasn't _that_ the image he saw in it?

~~~~~

 

**ii. _a story about a mirror_**

Remus met Snape at Hogwarts at midnight, just like he said he would. He knew he shouldn't, and that it would only lead to trouble, but it was as if the entire castle had sunk its stone teeth into him and pulled him there that night – as if by some divine intervention, he was meant to look in that mirror.

Snape was there when he arrived. The details are irrelevant now of how the two of them actually managed to break into Hogwarts in the dead of night during the summer after they ceased having any business there, but Remus saw enough of Snape's expertise at Dark magic that night to know better than to fuck with him. They followed winding corridors and lamp-lit tunnels, burrowing further into the hollow recesses of the castle before finally emerging into a small chamber – the kind that seemed a thousand years old, with abandoned skeletons lurking under the cobwebs in the corners.

The mirror itself was unremarkable. The gilded edges were dull with grime and the glass seemed heavy and fogged, as if any attempt at actual reflection was too much to ask of it.

"It's a mirror," he said with a shrug. "_That's_ why we're here?"

"It's not just a mirror," corrected Snape, assuming that air he had of making everything he said sound unbearably important.

Remus glanced at the glass again, one eyebrow raised. "Okay, fine. It's not a mirror. Whatever you say."

Snape folded his arms over his chest. "What do you want more than anything else in the world?"

That question was really getting rather tiresome, Remus couldn't help but think as he opened his mouth to give a flippant retort. He closed it again at a passing thought and cocked his head first at Snape, then at the mirror. "Wait," he managed. "_This_ is…" He paused. "No way."

"Ah. Not as stupid as you look."

"No." Remus swallowed. "No, I'm not. The Mirror of Erised… is at Hogwarts? But what…"

Snape shrugged. "That's for you to ask Dumbledore. All I know is that you have it, and we want it."

"We?"

Black eyes dropped to the floor as his face folded into a frown. "You know."

"I thought you weren't one of them yet."

"I'm not, but–" Snape stopped, waving a hand in the air as if to dismiss the very presence of the Death Eaters from the earth. "Anyway, I'm just supposed to figure out how to get it."

There was suddenly something bearing down on Remus, something vague but crushing, slowly overpowering him like a poisonous cloud moving through the room. He glanced from the mirror back to Snape, then down at his own hands before recognising the cloud as fear – of what that mirror would bring them both, and how much it would destroy. He found himself backing away. "I don't– no. I don't want to be here for this."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Lupin, don't be such a coward. I'm not going to steal the thing right in front of you. I'm just–" He shrugged again "–looking around."

"I'm not a coward," Remus whispered, more to himself than to Snape. "Don't call me that. It's just… I'm not a coward."

Snape's face melted into a sneer. "Yes, you are," he drawled, moving closer. "You're afraid to look, aren't you? I knew it."

"I'm not–"

"What do you think you'll see, Lupin?" Snape shouted all of a sudden. "I know what it'll be – you'll see me upside-down in the air, hanging by a foot, except it'll be you holding the wand this time, not Potter."

"What?" Remus's eyes flew up to Snape's. "What? Are you crazy? That was– that–"

"Or maybe it'll be that tunnel, except you'll win this time. You'll get me and just tear me up, won't you? That's what you really want. Just biding your time, aren't you? Never be anything but a stupid werewolf."

"Snape!" Remus exclaimed at last, pushing him hard in the chest. "What the fuck? I'm not going to– I'm not– Look. I'm not just a stupid werewolf. Stop it." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm just a normal fucking person, all right?"

Snape stumbled backwards but recovered quickly, righting his footing and straightening his robes. "And what," he asked quietly, "does a normal fucking person want with someone like me?"

Remus stared at him.

"I thought so. You're not a normal person, and you never will be." He took a deep breath and turned away. "And neither will I."

"Look." Remus stepped forward, taking Snape's arm and drawing him close. "Look, just– here, turn around, you idiot. Why are you being so–" He reached out to grip Snape's jaw between his thumb and forefinger, tilting the other man's head towards him. "Come here," he whispered, pulling Snape closer until their foreheads touched. He moved his hand up Snape's cheek and around the back of his head, threading fingers in that coarse black hair as he guided Snape's lips to his.

He didn't let it get too gentle, because as far as Remus was concerned, kissing Snape was never a gentle act. He didn't push it too hard, either – the point was to prove he was human, after all, and not a savage beast. He parted his lips and sought Snape's tongue, letting it tangle against his own as his grip tightened in that black hair. Snape tasted salty, and a bit smoky. His lips were soft, and Remus felt the pleasure of the kiss down to his toes. A moan escaped Remus's throat and he fisted his hands in Snape's robes, drawing him closer and drinking him in as though those lips were air and Remus breathless.

Snape finally pulled back a bit, their foreheads resting together.

"Why are you still pretending you're not on this side with me?" Remus whispered.

"With you?" Snape raised his head. "What side do you think you're on, Lupin?"

"I'm– what?"

"You heard me."

Not having an immediate answer to that question annoyed Remus more than he would have thought. "I know what side I'm on," he said defensively, backing away and glancing at the mirror. "I'm going to look in that thing and see You-Know-Who defeated. You're the one who doesn't know what he wants."

"The Dark Lord is going to be very kind to the werewolves, you know. Maybe you should think about it."

"I'm not a werewolf!" Remus shouted before he could stop himself, pushing Snape away and storming across the room. He stopped in front of the far wall, leaning a hand into it as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm his breathing. "I'm not… _just_... a werewolf," he corrected. "And anyway, why are you so caught up in that one little detail?" He turned back around to face Snape. "That's all I am to you, isn't it? A werewolf. Why can't you just–" He stopped, squeezing his eyes closed.

"Love you for who you are?" Snape mocked, a grin in his voice. "How romantic, Lupin." He moved closer, crossing the distance between them with slow steps until Remus felt the presence behind him. Snape leaned into him, breath ghosting the back of Remus's neck. "You don't trust me," he murmured, and a shiver ran down Remus's spine. "I know you don't. I can't join that _Order_ of his until you do."

The rough stone of the wall against Remus's cheek felt surprisingly good, and he let his head rest on it as he relished the weight of Snape's body pressed against him. "I do," he breathed, gasping as Snape's mouth fell to his neck, lips on flesh sending sparks through his body. "I do trust you."

"You want to be with me?" Snape whispered against his skin.

Remus let his head fall back. "_Yes_."

"You want this?" Snape's body pushed harder against him, and Remus felt the arousal at his back, urging him to make promises he wasn't sure he could keep.

"I want this," he replied, breathless, because he did at that moment. He wanted Snape to keep kissing his neck, gripping his arm, and pushing his cock into Remus's hip. He wanted to forget the rest of the world, forget the war, and most of all, he wanted to forget that Snape only desired a subdued werewolf at his beck and call to alleviate his own fears – that he didn't want Remus himself.

"When I look in that mirror," Snape whispered, lips gliding over the shell of Remus's ear, "I'm going to see the two of us, just like this. What are you going to see, Lupin?" He bit down.

"I… _fuck_." Remus writhed against the wall, a groan in his throat. "_This_," he promised. "I'll see this, too. Just… don't stop doing that."

Snape's hand fell lower, gripping Remus through his clothing and stroking hard. "Do you trust me?" he murmured, and the world fell in on them the way it always did when Snape touched him. Remus found himself thrusting forward, desperate for more contact as his fingernails clawed at the wall, scraping against the stone with every movement of Snape's hand against his cock.

"Yes," he muttered, closing his eyes as the pleasure overtook him. "I trust you. Just…" He collapsed against the wall, blood pounding in his veins and a moan he couldn't suppress wet on his lips. Snape's hand moved away and Remus sagged into the rough stone, trying to clear the fog from his mind.

Snape stepped back, and Remus had a brief moment to regret the loss of the warmth at his back before he heard the footsteps fall in the direction of the mirror. He turned his head to find Snape gazing at him across the room. "Prove it," he dared.

~~~~~

 

Snape went first, inching forward to stand squarely in front of the mirror, his face creased in concentration. The seconds ticked by and he didn't move, but a faint blush crept up his cheeks.

"Is it– not working?" Remus ventured, chewing his nails from the sidelines.

Snape glanced over at him, looking amused. "Oh, it's working just fine. It's just that I'm rather enjoying the show."

Remus's mouth fell open, and he could have sworn he saw Snape grin before turning back to his reflection. "_Show?_"

"Mm. It seems my deepest desire is to fuck you blind for the rest of our days."

"How romantic," Remus muttered, waving his hand. "And that proves love and trust and all that?"

"I think so, yes."

Remus let him gaze awhile longer before grabbing his arm. "All right, that's enough."

Snape stumbled towards him, leaning in to lick at the shell of Remus's ear.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Remus pointed out, and Snape shrugged.

"You don't. I'll add that to my list of proof you don't trust me, though."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Great. I can't win."

Black eyes glanced back at the mirror. "Your turn."

~~~~~

 

In hindsight, Remus had no idea what he was thinking. Did one good kiss and one astonishingly good orgasm honestly lull him into believing he would see Snape in that mirror? Yes, for that brief moment before Remus stepped in front of the glass, it did.

The image that hurtled towards him was anything but Snape.

Remus saw the blood before anything else, covering his clothing and dripping from his hands and mouth. Then he saw the body crumpled on the grass like a savaged gazelle on the African savannah. The limbs were scattered in unnatural directions, red pouring from countless wounds, as his foot stamped triumphantly on the creature's chest.

And in his right hand, raised in the air in victory, was a head. Ripped clean from the body, it stared out at him from the mirror – wide yellow eyes caught with a look of permanent surprise, lips slack over retracted fangs, and furred cheeks smeared with blood.

Remus didn't need to be told that his subconscious knew something the rest of him did not. Anger surged through his body, coiling in the fists at his sides.

The werewolf that bit him – dead at his hands. The taste of revenge in his mouth was as sweet as copper.

~~~~~

 

**iii. _a story about a werewolf  
_**  
It was funny how quickly and thoroughly Snape disappeared from his life after that night.

"_Where are we, Lupin?_" Snape's angry voice mocked him wherever he went. "_Where, you miserable animal, are _we_ in that fucking mirror? Tell me that_."

He would have been happy to explain it to Snape – if he'd been able to explain it to himself first, that is. He hadn't stuck around long enough to tell Snape what he'd seen, but that didn't matter. Snape knew that Remus hadn't seen what he'd _promised_ he would see, and that was enough. He hadn't seen his lover. He hadn't seen the two of them together.

That shouldn't have surprised him, but it did.

Weeks passed, and he didn't know whether the gnawing at his gut was caused by the echoes of that image or Snape's absence. It was probably both, and that was the worst of it. He wanted to see Snape in that mirror. He wanted a normal life with someone who loved him.

"You still sitting around here, Moony?" An unwelcome voice floated into his thoughts as he sat at the kitchen table of the Order's temporary headquarters, mulling over the great existential questions of the world. "You'd think it was summer vacation, not the middle of a goddamned war."

"Leave me alone, Padfoot."

"Like hell. Dumbledore sent you off to the werewolves months ago. Why the fuck are you still here?"

Remus raised his head. "I'm not going. I thought that was obvious by now."

"Fuck you, you're not going! Who the hell else is supposed to go – fucking Wormtail?" Sirius shook his head, making an ugly face at Remus. "Since when do you have all these self-loathing issues anyway?"

"I– what?"

"You heard me. First time in your life, you actually have a chance to be with your own kind, and you won't do it."

"My own _kind?_ Fuck you."

"Suit yourself. Guess we'll just go ahead and lose the werewolves to You-Know-Who, yeah? All because you're too proud to admit you're actually one of them." Sirius grabbed an apple from the kitchen table and disappeared.

~~~~~

 

He knew he shouldn't, but he went back anyway. He sat huddled night after night, staring at the image in the mirror and willing it to change. It was crazy, but he truly believed that if he just stared hard enough and squinted long enough, Snape would come striding through the background, hurl the battered body aside and toss an arm around Remus's shoulders. Allies, that's what they would be – allies during the day and lovers at night. He had gotten fairly attached to Snape over the past few months, there was no denying that. If only he was more attached to Snape than he was to the idea of slaughtering the creature that had made him a werewolf.

"I think perhaps it is time to move the mirror somewhere you cannot find it," a kindly voice said behind him one night. Remus didn't turn around.

"No, sir, I don't think that's a good idea. Not till I find the right answer, at least."

"Ah. And what is the right answer?"

"Not this," he whispered sadly, gesturing at the glass. "Not this."

"You should not fear what you see," Dumbledore replied, "but nor should you gaze too long. Other men in your place have gone mad."

"That's okay. I don't mind."

"Remus."

He dropped his eyes to the floor.

"It might interest you to know that I have just received word that Severus Snape has taken the Dark Mark."

Remus closed his eyes.

"Remarkable young man, really," Dumbledore continued. "I had hoped we would be able to persuade him to join the Order. I do not think I need to tell you how valuable his skills and intellect will be to Lord Voldemort."

"No, sir," Remus whispered, "you don't."

"I do still require your assistance with the werewolves, if you are amenable. If they were to end their neutrality and join him…"

Remus shook his head, eyes on the floor. "No, I can't. I'll help– another way."

"This is the only way you can help," Dumbledore pressed, and something in his calm set Remus off.

"_Why?_" he thundered, jumping to his feet and whirling on the old man. "Why does it have to be that? Why can't I be something other than a werewolf for once?" The rage knotted in his stomach made him nauseous as he thought back on the image in the mirror. _Calm down_, he ordered himself. _You are not that man_.

"You are angry, Remus, and you have a right to be. You are angry about what has been done to you."

Remus took a deep breath. "No, I'm not angry," he insisted. "I don't care about being a werewolf; that's not it."

"Yes, Remus, I believe that is exactly it." The blue eyes gazed at him in concern. "I am certainly not suggesting you go off to the werewolves in order to fulfill the image in that mirror, but I do believe that liaising with them would do wonders for you as a human. As Remus." Dumbledore paused and let out a shallow sigh. "Why are you afraid to face your anger?"

"I–" Remus felt his shoulders deflate with sudden exhaustion, and he reached out for the gilded frame of the mirror to steady himself. "I'm not angry," he repeated.

When he dared to glance up, Dumbledore was looking at him with that pleasant intensity he always seemed to have. He nodded towards the mirror, and Remus stepped forward, releasing his hold on the frame and daring to look in the glass once more. He wished beyond all measure that this time, _this time_, the image would be different.

It wasn't.

"You have spent your whole life denying your anger," said Dumbledore softly. "Isn't it time to face it?"

He didn't answer. In the glass, his other self grinned maniacally as it shook the severed head in the air, triumphant eyes gleaming back at him.

~~~~~

 

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to tell you something."

"_Here?_ I know that intellect isn't your strong suit, but I never thought even you were this stupid." Snape really did look alarmed, glancing over his shoulder every five seconds as Remus approached.

"Really?" Remus replied mildly. "And here I thought 'stupid werewolf' was always my primary designation with you."

Snape had the good sense to look away and even to appear mildly uncomfortable. "It wasn't really ever about that," he muttered under his breath.

Remus leaned in closer. "Then what was it about?"

"You really want to stand here talking about it, Lupin?" He looked nervously over his shoulder again. "Look, I have to get to–"

"I know; calm down. Just tell me something."

Black eyes glared at him.

"Did you set out to _tame_ me – is that what this was about?"

"Don't be stupid, Lupin."

"So why? Why did you knock into me that night, that first time?"

Snape looked away and was silent for a moment, before raising his eyes to hold Remus's gaze. "To see if I could."

"Oh." Remus shifted. "Okay, and– you could. Are you still afraid of me?"

"Of course not!" Snape scowled. "I was never afraid of you."

"No? Then tell me something else."

The other man watched him.

"What do you want more than anything else in the world?"

The air around them seemed to pause at the question, and for a moment, Snape looked surprised. His features quickly twisted into an ugly grin, as he stepped forward and locked his eyes on Remus. From what Remus knew about Legilimency from his seventh-year class work, this was a rather elementary attempt, but he stood riveted nonetheless as Snape's mind flashed between two rocky images.

In the first, the two of them were naked in the grass, rutting wildly as the sun set and the moon rose. The clear, perfect orb shone through the trees, casting a shadow over the intertwined bodies. Remus bit his lip as the image shifted. The moon remained in place, but darkness seeped into the edges of the frame, and the two human bodies seeking pleasure turned into one human body, standing triumphantly over one non-human body. The werewolf lay limp in the grass, its head at an unnatural angle as Snape glared at it, his face unreadable.

Remus dropped his eyes from Snape's and the air around them expanded again, allowing breath. "You want to fuck me and kill me," he stated, his head reeling. "I suppose that's not surprising." He paused. "What if you had to choose one or the other?"

"What makes you think they're so different?"

Remus's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but after a second, he realised that Snape was right, and he laughed, shaking his head. "I suppose they're not," he answered at last. He sobered. "If it comes down to someone killing me in this war, will you do the honours?"

Snape's mouth twitched. "I'll try."

Remus nodded.

"Now get the hell out of here."

"I'm going, I'm going. But Snape?"

The other man looked up.

"I do trust you, you know."

"Yes, I know, which is why none of the rest of them trust _you_. Now get out. And Lupin?"

He turned.

"Don't come back."

~~~~~

 

Remus packed some things the next morning and owled Dumbledore.

_I'll start with the Welsh Packs. Give me a week to see if their leader will talk to me.   
The Patronus will tell you if I'm in trouble, right?_

 

There had been a pond in his parents' back yard when Remus was a boy. It was small and green and the algae floating on the surface gave it a rather putrid smell, but Remus had loved sitting in the muddy grass on the pond's edge on summer days, watching the bleary fish and groggy frogs that lurked just beneath the surface.

"Don't get too close," his father would always warn him. "You might fall in."

"I just want to see my reflection," he would whine, stamping his foot, but his father was adamant.

"You don't know what you'd see," he would tell Remus. "If you saw something you didn't like, it'd be too late to stop looking."

But his father, like everyone else, had only ever seen him as _Remus Lupin, Werewolf_. It was ironic now that he had decided the best way to find his own voice and confront his own fears was to walk right into a camp full of werewolves. He might fall in. He might not like what he'd see. But he had to try. It was time to stop being angry.

This wasn't a story about Snape or about a mirror, and he would be damned if his life was going to be just one long, tired story about a werewolf. He was more than that. He _deserved_ more than that, didn't he?

This was a story about Remus.

 

-fin-


End file.
